Clinging Skin
by Bahamut-255
Summary: An M.I.B. AU/POV Shift, focusing on Kerb/Edgar as he seeks The Galaxy for reasons beyond just his own ends. And what would likely be the case if they (the M.I.B.) didn't have James Darrell Edwards III on their team. Rated 'T' for scenes of Death.


Kerb had crammed himself into a vessel half his size to travel to a desolate backwater world 100 parsecs away from anything that could be called civilisation. Even so, there were places that civilisation touched, places where different species and culture met to discuss trade, treaties...and to end conflicts.

For years the Arquilians and Baltians had warred and the Bugs had sold weapons to both sides to earn profit and prolong the war. They covered their tracks, used fronts and the back alleys of the universe so that no one would know that they were using the war to benefit themselves.

Then Kerb failed, allowed key information to fall into the hands of the Arquillians and in turn the Baltians. A growing minority on both sides sued for peace to cut off the profit to the Bug species. The Arquilian royalty would transfer the Galaxy, one of the greatest sources of sub-atomic power known, to the Baltian geniality and they chose the refuge planet for their transfer.

Mother banished Kerb. Mother seized his holdings, banished him to the farthest reaches of space and warned him that he would never return for as long as he lived. Unless of course, he were to do something right, unless he were to prolong the war and force both sides to scrape before the Bugs for the weapons and tactical information they needed more than anything. So Kerb travelled to the world of glorified pond scum on his own, in a vessel meant for a much smaller creature, to earn his return home.

He passed the planet's moon, he passed their toy satellites undetected and entered the atmosphere, rough and loud, but manageable. Then the landing system failed, Kerb could not operate it properly with how cramped he was and so he crashed into the ground. The sensors still worked and showed that he was far from his target, yet another complication that he did not need. He emerged from the ship and saw one of the milk-suckers looking down at him.

"Place your, Projectile Weapon, on the ground." Kerb commanded his inferior, versed in the few of this backwater planet's languages worth knowing.

"You can have the gun," The impudent meat-sack goaded him, loading the chamber of his 'gun'. "When you pry it from my cold, Dead fingers."

Kerb stopped himself from laughing, and really, this thing saw him and thought that it could threaten him? Still, the primitive excuse for sentient life would prove useful.

"Your proposal, is acceptable." He reached up to grab the biped by the head and pulled him down. He got to work.

Kerb could have killed the glorified pond-scum first and then got what he needed, but he'd been hungry, and besides, he made sure that just enough of the body and its coverings were left to suit his needs. And they were his needs, he would not do this if he did not need to.

Cramming himself into the ship had not prepared him for this torture! One small step at a time, Kerb forced one pair of legs into them and folded the other between his body and tail. He pressed, kneaded, and squeezed to fit his exoskeleton into the skin. Kerb stopped to breathe, and realized that he'd pressed his lungs into his stomach, and his stomach into his gall bladder, his intestines almost forced shut. He reminded himself that he did not have time and pressed on through the agony. He nearly tore his arms loose getting the fabric into place, but he managed and got the foot coverings back on as well. The primitives would never see through his disguise. He was ready.

He heaved his crushed body from the crater, weapon still in cold dead fingers. Kerb readjusted the skin back into place, he grunted and was repulsed by the sound. Too high in its pitch, too small in its power. The joints stiffened making moving them an arduous task, having to keep them as stiff as he could when he moved both to limit their screams at their confinement, and to walk with a pace to speak of.

* * *

Kerb had to drag his ship out of the crater and load it into the cargo compartment of the vehicle he'd stolen from the biped. Satisfied that it was hidden and the self-repair mechanism would operate in peace, he left in the middle of the morning down the main road to his target.

At least for now he didn't need to move much which kept the pain to a bearable level, just one covered foot on one pedal while travelling in a mostly straight line. The same lack of distraction though caused Kerb's mind to wander. He regretted how he'd killed the scum who'd tried to kill the bugs; it was over and done too fast, he didn't get to see the piece of filth react and realize its mistake. Kerb swore not to make that mistake again, but with his body crammed into such a volume, it was not something he could count on and with his disguise decaying with each passing moment, one eye (thankfully not his dominant one) already turning white, he knew that time was against him.

The city itself was a different matter. Constant start and stop traffic and the need to turn tight corners forcing Kerb to move around bringing the pain right back. The rage mounted more and more, seeing all of them walk around like they owned the place made him seethe. If he hadn't found his target just then, he thought he would just abandon his mission, disguise and slaughter them all with his own claws.

He'd turned to look at the Arquillian prince and pulled back from the pain. His arm wouldn't move right, it, the wheel was the wrong distance away from him. He jerked and twisted to manage to keep the prince in sight ahead of himself. The prince left his vehicle and entered an eating establishment. Kerb left his own vehicle and noticed that one of the fastenings had been torn loose. His exoskeleton had rubbed against the top layer and broken it. Just a few more hours, and he could leave the disguise behind.

* * *

Kerb had lashed out, rage seeped from the rotting carcass he'd dressed himself in; DIAMONDS! HE'D STOLEN NOTHING BUT WORTHLESS DIAMONDS! The prince had hidden the Galaxy somewhere else, he went to the jewellery store he ran as his front on this worthless planet and smashed all he could find. Then he paid attention to the pictures on the wall, he saw the cat, he saw the Galaxy in its collar.

Kerb's luck continued; the operatives took his transportation, true, but he found out where the dead in this 'city' were kept, and moreover, he saw a picture of two operational craft out in the open; the bipeds may as well have handed him the Galaxy.

Kerb walked and adjusted to his constrained body. He arrived at the morgue and enjoyed the bell provided to him; if the human hadn't insisted on killing the bugs, killing his kin on this world, he might have let him live.

Kerb found the one that looked to be in charge; it was certainly smarter than the others, it saw the condition of his disguise! Kerb halted a moment, but he was so close to success, he would not be thrown off track. He searched, and the cat came to him, it tried to attack him! Even if it could get past the dead flesh, it couldn't hurt him, and now his practice with this body paid off. He took the Galaxy.

Kerb's celebrations were cut short when the bell rang. The pond-scum called out, he had to leave. A swift twist of the neck was sufficient to silence the female before she could sound the alarm as Kerb launched himself up the shaft and back outside.

Kerb found his next transport, he appropriated the vehicle from its former owner. Kerb slid himself along its forward bench and slammed rightmost the foot lever, thankful that this particular one could change its own gears, relieved for one task he didn't need to conduct. As a precautionary measure Kerb took The Galaxy and swallowed it. It would mean a lot of discomfort once he returned home to extract it from his stomach, but given what it would mean for him, it would be more than worth it.

* * *

Night had fallen now and Kerb was no closer to the only transport he had left to leave this wretched planet, it should not have taken him this long to find them yet he now had to scour the area for any indication as to their location. He should have kept the one smart one alive, it could have guided him to his target. What's more, the rotted disguise that his mission forced him to accept was pushing him to breaking point. The constraints left him stiff and pained, and he could see a few metres in front of him at best.

The MIB could find him like this, he was wasting time and the they could find him! Kerb flailed, and on the third try he found a solid grip on his face, the face he'd slaughtered and stolen, and tore it apart. The rotted eyes fell down to the floor.

This, this was much better. With his own eyes Kerb could peer through the darkness outside and make out the silhouettes of the ships in what was called the Flushing Meadows, perhaps three or four clicks away. Finally, even with the slowed pace he needed to take, things were going right for Kerb again.

Not only was he within sight of his way off this worthless world, but the cool air on his now-exposed exoskeleton actually felt very pleasant given their longer-than-intended covering. His eyes feeling much better as was his right hand where the flesh had parted. In fact, with his nearness to the ships, the lack of witnesses, and just how sickly a state it was now, Kerb made his decision. The only question being where to begin.

Kerb's answer was the left sleeve of the top covering. Wrested from the seam, slowly moving his free hand down with each grow of the tear, until it was removed and dumped beneath him with the flesh. Flexing his freed claws, Kerb couldn't help but release a moan when the rest of the 'borrowed' head joined them, too far gone to serve as food.

He knew he could rip it all off in a matter of seconds, perhaps even in one motion if he chose. But after all he'd endured in the name of claiming The Galaxy, to continue the Arquillian/Baltian War, to earn Mother's forgiveness. This was a luxury Kerb deserved, and he intended to enjoy every single moment of it as he moved to pulling loose the fastenings of the top covering one, by one. Relaxing his grip on holding himself in by the slightest amount was enough to blow the first fastening of the upper layer loose, then the second. The front of it flopping away, the rush of even this air was enough to bring real joy to Kerb as he briefly forgot about his wish to take it slow when the whole of his upper half was able to experience it.

And he was almost at his destination, perhaps another two minutes as Kerb opted to extend an arm down to the base of his left leg, claws cutting through the thicker material four times before twisting it away from him as he pulled on it to release the other leg.

Kerb had forced himself into the disguise, endured humiliation, and the pleasure of release felt almost reward enough. He approached the ships, no bipeds in sight, none to see him.

Halting and exiting the vehicle, Kerb pulled off part of the footwear, opening the claws and using them to pull the other foot free as he took a few steps to the nearest of the ships, unfolding himself finally allowed Kerb to use his others legs once his Abdomen and Thorax were in their proper place. He needed a moment to stretch himself, to work out the stiffness from his long confinement before digging his claws into the support pillar and climb up.

The interior of the Baltian ship had been changed, that much was obvious soon after Kerb entered, no doubt to keep the inferior life forms from discerning its true purpose. But the controls were easy enough to find, powering up the ship's engines for the first time in decades as it tore from its stand. Slowly at first until the engines were warmed through before Kerb increased the power to them just in time to see another vehicle approaching were he'd abandoned his last one. Hah! They were too late! Already Kerb was entering the upper atmosphere and beginning to approach this world's escape velocity.

As Kerb pulled away from the planet, he saw the Arquillian Battle Cruiser in orbit, intent on stopping him even if it meant destroying the whole ball of dirt in the process. They did not know what ship he was using, the simpletons would think he was just another refugee evacuating the doomed planet.

Kerb reached a safe distance, entered the coordinates for his home, and activated the warp drive. Even at superluminal speeds, it would be days before he arrived.

Kerb relaxed at last. He cleared a space in the altered outer ring, set himself down and closed his eyes. He wondered just when the Arquillians would open fire and destroy the planet in a doomed effort to stop him. Kerb sighed; so many of its native bugs would perish as a result, but he knew they'd want it that way; death was better than letting the milk-sucking monkeys win.

With his body at its normal proportions, Kerb could properly digest the last meal he'd had when he first came to that world. Letting his digestive system do its thing, Kerb took the time he had to sleep.

* * *

Epilogue…

Kerb was back on the planet that was once Earth, on orders from his mother; the planet had valuable untapped resources that could be used in weapons manufacturing, the products would then be sold to the Arquillians and the Baltians. The planet itself was far from the conflict, and that distance made it ideal for its new purpose.

The Arquillians had razed the surface, smothered the sky with dust, and brought the temperature to a plummeting low. It would take 100 years for the dust to settle, but the Bugs would waste no time; the advance party was already in place, building the first of the towers and tunnels that would one day characterize this 'Earth'. It wasn't like home, the parent sun too bright and yellow to the peach Kerb had known in his youth, but in time, it would be made close enough.

Kerb grinned when he found that while many native bugs had died, many survived. With help of the flora and fauna of Home, they would flourish, they would thrive. He would oversee it, as per Mother's orders.

Kerb's other assignment was to deal with the fifty million surviving humans. The humans were not fast or strong, but they were durable after a fashion, able to work long hours; on the balance, acceptable labour. In time, with careful breeding, there would be enough to also serve as food supply.

* * *

 **A/N: This came from an idea from Cypsiman2 which I made into a full-length story, detailing certain events and adding new parts to the first Men In Black movie, from Kerb/Edgar the Bug's POV, and with a very, very notable deviation from Canon. The M.I.B. REALLY should've selected James Darrell Edwards III as K's replacement...**

 **While I did mainly write the story, it was Cypsiman2 who reviewed and edited each part as it was made to make sure it would be at its best before posting.**


End file.
